


A Controlled Experiment

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Control Issues, Denial, F/M, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-14
Updated: 2011-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa wants to be in control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Controlled Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Time-line wise, consider this taking place some years after AFFC.

In those moments, he always calls her Sansa.

For that she is thankful. She’s still Alayne outside his rooms, still the bastard girl who sees and hears too much and reports back to him what she learned that evening, but the thought of being Alayne in those rooms and during those moments is simply too much to bear. But no, she’s Sansa, and it’s okay for Sansa to react the way she does when they’re alone, in the dark.

It is okay for Sansa to grip his thin arms, back arched, and let out strangled cries that will hurt her throat in the morning and that Alayne will blame on the cold. It is okay for Sansa to run her hands through his graying hair as he’s between her legs. It’s okay for Sansa to give him her maidenhead, because Harry is marrying Alayne.

It may have taken her a few years, but she has become quite skilled in detachment, and it’s served her well; she feels better, more in control, than she did in King’s Landing. And the shame she felt in the early days melted away with the passage of time, to be replaced by the illicit thrill of deceiving others. She knew now why it had always appealed to him.

She does not think he is deceiving her on this, not about his attraction. She’s seen the way he looks at her. Yet she is starting to realize a pattern—it is always her begging, her left shattered and spent, while he remains—not _unaffected,_ no—but in control. The way he smiles at her and kisses her afterward, smoothing her hair, leads her to suspect that some of his pleasure comes from that role of power. He always told her how men could get lost in her eyes, and it sometimes seemed as though he prided himself on not giving in completely to his desires.

But she knows his desire is real. Every so often he’ll slip, and that quiet and calm demeanor will melt away, the intimacy of the moment destroying all of his years of deceit and layers. It’s always a moment though, never enough to hang onto at the time, when she herself is completely in his power. And it somehow seems right that he would be the one in control, given that he had taken it upon himself to instruct her.

But she’s a good pupil. She learned some things.

****

“So, what do you make of our new Lord Hunter?”

The question was poised lightly, as if Petyr was asking her opinion on nothing more important than dinner, but Sansa knew he would judge her answer carefully—not just the answer itself, but the tone of voice she used, the placement of her hands. She studied her wine goblet, the ledger in front of him, the way the moonlight caught the dagger on his desk, just within his reach.

“He’s a murder,” she said. The accusation rolled off her tongue with ease.

Petyr nodded, as though it was the most common thing in the world. “That he is. But we all have our secrets, don’t we _Alayne_?” He made a point of emphasizing the bastard girl’s name and Sansa frowned, just a bit. The name always sounded strange in these rooms, and it caused her stomach to quiver in a way that made her grip her goblet tighter.

“We do,” she agreed, her voice as clear and smooth as she could make it. She succeeded, for the most part, and allowed herself a private smile. She sloshed the wine around her goblet and examined it. “Some of us more than others.”

Petyr smiled with his mouth, but his eyes remained still and Sansa met then, defiant. She held his gaze for what felt like ages, until she saw something like respect pass across his grey-green gaze, and she could return his smile. He laughed lightly and her shoulders relaxed, easing muscles that she did not even realize were tense.

“But what did you gather from our meeting, sweetling? How careful must we be around him?”

Sansa thought about that, a bit. She focused on his hands, lying on the table, on his delicate fingers. She thought about how they felt about her waist when he would kiss her goodnight. How they felt inside her, as she knew they soon would be. But no, if she thought about _that_ she would never respond to his question.

“He’s not a very bright man, if his motives are so clear to us.”

Petyr nodded. In the early days the knowledge that she had arrived at the correct answer would have been enough to send her heart fluttering. There was still some of that feeling there—she still smiled a bit when she knew she had pleased him—but always walking in his footsteps was a tiring task. She still had much to learn from him, she knew, but the idea of surprising him was just too sweet.

He downed his own cup in one fluid movement and motioned her towards him. She emptied hers, knowing this dance well; his fingers grasped her about the wrist and she was pulled into his lap amid a flurry of skirts. Her breath caught, as it always did, and she had to remind herself of her resolve. _He desires you. Make him show it._

His lips were at her neck, on her pulse, when she placed her hands on his shoulders and gently shoved him back. He looked up at her in confusion and a small degree of hurt, looking younger than his years. Just this small action seemed to have moved things in her favor, and she felt her strength build.

“What’s wrong?” He tried to hide the hurt in his voice but she heard it clearly, and was surprised by how quickly he had become vulnerable. _He’s always been desperate for acceptance._ The realization made her falter a bit, but she managed to give him a genuine smile.

“Nothing. Just…follow me, okay?” She slid down from his lap and offered him her hand. He took it without another word.

****

His bedchamber was a more than familiar site to her. Though she never slept in it, most of her recent evenings had passed behind its heavily locked door.

She would have preferred her rooms for this experiment, but the truth of the matter was his were more secluded. She would not risk exposure, not even to prove a point. Besides, it seemed somewhat fitting that the room that had born witness to her submission would be the site of this grasp for power.

Once inside, Petyr began to lead her toward the bed and, out of force of habit, she followed before planting her feet in the ground. He turned to look at her for a long moment, before quirking one eyebrow up and allowing her to lead him.

Any other night, her gown and her shift would have been cast aside before she even landed on the mattress. On this night, she pressed her hands into his shoulders and pushed him down. He smirked up at her, and she wondered how long it would take for his control to break, collapse like her’s did nearly every night.

It started to slip when her hands went to the fastenings of his doublet; his smile broke and his hands gripped the sheets, just slightly. She had seen his scar many times before, but he never seemed comfortable with it, and the idea of being undressed first did not seem to sit right with him. But he let her do it, without a word, and soon the ruined flesh was exposed.

She didn’t say anything about it, as she never did. She kissed him, lighter than she knew he wanted, and pulled back to undo her laces. He moved to help her, falling into the role he always took, and she slapped his hand away.

“Not tonight,” she explained. “Tonight, you’ll only do as I say.”

The look he gave her was hard to read, but she was becoming better at interpreting the slight changes in his eyes. There was a definite sense of amusement in there, mixed with the desire. As glad as she was to realize he was not cross with her, she needed him to understand that she was serious.

She stripped completely, her gown landing in a mess on the floor. She felt flushed, and the space between her legs was already warm and wet, but the room itself was cold. She stopped herself from allowing him to take her into the warmth of his arms, as he was used to, and stood naked before him, goosebumps dotting her skin.

“And what do you have planned, my dear?” he asked, reaching out to run a hand down her hip. She allowed his fingers to graze her skin for a moment, before moving away from him. If she didn’t, she was liable to give away all the control he had given her. She went to the head of the bed, and settled herself against the pillows.

“You’re going to watch me,” she said in as stern a voice as she could manage. “Watch, and not touch.”

That seemed to get him. He set his mouth in a tight line and met her eyes. When he did, Sansa just laughed softly and slide her hand between her legs.

As always, she was surprised at how damp she had gotten in such a short amount of time. Just his touch—him placing a hand on her lower back, his hand covering hers as she rested one on the top of a desk—was enough to rouse her desire. There was no denying this, and now she would use it to her advantage.

She spread her legs slightly and dragged two fingers up her folds, her eyes not leaving his face. He had all of his attention focused on her, and as she slid one dainty finger inside he moved closer to her, till he was as near as he could be without touching her. As she began to draw that finger in and out, preparing herself for the second, she saw his hand move down to graze the front of his breeches.

Sansa brought her other hand out, quick as she could, and caught his around the wrist. She could swear she almost heard him groan as she shook her head. “I said just to watch.”

He laughed, exasperated. “My lady…”

“Do you wish for me to stop?” She brought her finger out and rested it against her thigh.

Petyr sighed and his eyes moved from hers, traveling down her body, taking in her hardened nipples and wet sex. “No, of course not. But what are you planning?”

“You’ll see,” she gave him one of her practiced smiles and resumed her task, watching his face all the while. His own eyes were locked on the hand between her legs, and she saw him lick his lips slightly as she brought the other finger in and began to press against her clit with her thumb. Sansa made sure she was as vocal as she could be—low moans, soft sighs, anything that spoke of pleasure. With each one she saw him tense up, and noticed he was gripping the sheets in an effort to keep his hands off them both.

The fact that he was obviously struggling to hold himself back made the act even more pleasurable for her, and she felt her climax building quicker than she anticipated. Just the look of him, his eyes nothing but lust, his mouth partly open, his cock straining against the thin fabric of his trousers—she knew she had him, she had never seen him look at her with such amazement before. And yet it was not enough. There had been too many nights in this bed where she had to beg him for release, and she would have him do the same before she gave him any. She thought of those nights, of everything wicked and wrong that had happened in this bed, and she moved her fingers faster.

The thought of how his voice would sound, cracked and pleading, brought her off. She turned her head towards him and struggled to keep her eyes open as the waves took her, her legs trembling against the sheets. She swore she heard him whisper her name, but nothing understandable escaped her throat.

Afterwards, as she lay spent, she ghosted one hand across the front of his breeches, not hard enough to give him any form of release. He inhaled sharply and pushed forward into her hand, and she pulled back.

“Am I done just watching, now?” He asked, and she noted how his voice had lost some of his smoothness. She gave him the most innocent look she could manage.

“What exactly do you want, my lord?” Without waiting for a reply she undid his laces and freed his cock. It looked almost painfully hard, the head glistening, and she had to remember her own determination to hold back. She ran her fingers up it, as light as can be. “Is it this?”

He let out a soft groan, and then met her eyes. There seemed to be a flicker of understanding there. “I know what game you’re playing, Sansa.”

She pulled her hand away, “If you won’t play along, I can just leave you to yourself, my lord.”

“No,” the word came out a bit more forcefully than he probably intended. He licked his lips and ran one hand down her body, cupping a breast. His breathing had gone ragged, heavy. “ _Please_ , Sansa.”

Whether he understood or not, the desperation in his voice was clear. His voice was strangled, he was struggling, the tone exactly like the one that escaped her lips every night. Sansa felt her heart clench in triumph, and without a word she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She kept her eyes on his face, on the way his brow clenched and his half-lidded eyes. She’s wasn’t sure she had ever seen him look so blissful or struggle so much. _It’s because of you,_ she thought, and that idea itself aroused her all over again. She ran her thumb over the head, and pressed lightly on the underside.

He didn’t last very long, as he had been holding himself back all this time. He came across her stomach, the seed warm and familiar, the feel of it making her shudder with pleasure. She touched it, smeared it across her pale skin, and brought her fingertips to her lips to taste. They were soon replaced by his lips, the kiss so forceful she could swear she would be left bruised.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. He said nothing in response, but kissed her jawline, gently.

She knew that soon she would be back in her own role, that of the student who was entirely in his power. She depended on him too much to break out of it just yet. But the sound of his voice at that moment would remain in her ear, stored away for those nights she is left alone, providing her with a base of strength when she made her way in the world outside the Vale. _You can make men break for you. It takes almost nothing._ The thought brought a lazy smile to her lips.


End file.
